


Charted shit

by sandy_andrew



Category: Hatchetfield Universe - Team StarKid
Genre: Blame the saf server, Charlotte babe im really sorry but you must suffer, F/M, I wrote this instead of sleeping one night, Soft Ted, Ted isnt big on alcohol, angsty if you want to call it that, bed sharing let’s go boys, but not really, but so is sam so shes wary, but sorta, catch me crying tonight over charted, charlottes an alcoholic, flashback to you tied up my heart, fuck teds dad thats all i have to say, here you go, hes a book guy, i guess, i said what i said, nightmare time was so good but it didnt have any charted so, not really - Freeform, or not really, sams an asshole, swearings kinda prominent, the story is sad, these tags are vague as hell its fine, until shes not, what the fuck is a tag, writing the nightmare was so fun i want to write more
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:34:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29492148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandy_andrew/pseuds/sandy_andrew
Summary: Charlotte loved her husband, right? She thought so, at least. Then she had to live with Ted Spankoffski while Sam sorted out his priorities.
Relationships: Charlotte/Ted Spankoffski
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	1. in which charlotte is introduced

**Author's Note:**

> ah holy fuck guys i was basically bullied into posting this /j lh  
> if you cant tell this wasnt originally formatted for ao3 but its fine i think it’ll be fine

There are certain moments in life when words can't possible describe how you feel. This is one of those moments.  
Charlotte and Ted were lying in bed, her head resting on his chest. Ted was running a hand through Charlotte's hair, acutely aware of the contented sighs she would give off every once in a while as she nuzzled closer to him. It was nice. Domestic, even. Ted closed his eyes and tried to remember what had led up to this blissful peace.  
Charlotte had sulked into the office looking worse than usual, deep bags under her eyes and a slight stumble every other step. She sat down at her desk, barely mumbling a good morning to Melissa. Charlotte immediately pulled a flask from her purse and up to her lips, hand shaking.  
Ted decided to approach her, ignoring the glares from other coworkers as he walked.  
"Are you okay?"  
His voice was unrecognizable. Tinged with softness, the words sluggishly made their way to Charlotte's ears. Her head snapped up, somewhat surprised to see Ted, of all people, leaning over her desk with a face full of concern.  
"Yeah, I'm fine. A little scuffle with Sam, is all."  
His face hardened for a moment.  
"He didn't..."  
She stared up at him in shock. She knew her coworkers thought rather low of her absentee husband, but to go as far as to accuse him of abuse?  
"Jesus, no! No. We just had a little disagreement, nothing physical. Why'd you even think that?"  
Ted nodded sheepishly, clearly ashamed of his immediate reaction.  
"You aren't acting like yourself today, 's all. I'm worried about you, Char."  
Charlotte immediately picked up on the nickname, noticing that Ted seemed to as well.  
"I'm gonna, uh..."  
"Yeah. See you later, I guess. "  
Ted shuffled away back to his desk, face burning with embarrassment. He could practically feel Charlotte's eyes burning into his back as he left. She probably hated him now.  
Back at Charlotte's desk, the events of the previous night replayed in her head. Coming home to see Sam lying on the couch with bottles of booze around him. She didn't know where he had gotten them. She had learned very early on to hide any alcohol from her husband. Sam had whispered her name in a drunken stupor, beckoning her over with a wave of his hand. Charlotte reluctantly moved toward him, keeping herself out of arm's reach out the drunken cop.  
"Hey. You know Zoey? The bitch from Beanie's?"  
His words were slurred and clearly not thought out well. Charlotte bit her lip and nodded numbly, worrying what was about to tumble out of his mouth next.  
"We got two tickets to the Starlight Theatre. Mamma Mia? So if you could have the house clean on Tuesday. I think she's coming home with me."  
He began to giggle happily, hiccups escaping his mouth like a child. An impossibly drunk child.  
"Sam, honey, I think we should take a break. I can stay at Melissa's house or something. I just don't know if I can stay here. With you. Not when I know you don't love me anymore."  
She clapped her hand over her mouth and stared at Sam's face, carefully judging his reaction to her sentiments. His unfocused eyes seemed to land in her.  
"What?"  
His hand started to grip a bottle of beer tighter.  
"I just think, you know, you should have some alone time with-"  
Charlotte had to choke down the bile forming in the back of her throat.  
"With Zoey."  
This answer seemed to please him a bit, his hand letting the bottle drop to the floor with a dull thud.  
"Okay. Have fun...."  
With that, he began to snore softly. Charlotte took that as a cue to retrieve her coat and keys. She figured she could stay in a hotel room tonight. Didn't want to bother Melissa this late at night.  
Charlotte was shocked out of her daydream by a woman holding a stack of paper out at her. Melissa. Just the person she wanted to see.  
"Hey, could you maybe make a copy of these for me? I'm about to hand them over to Ted for some review and I don't want him to get any shit on them."  
"Oh yeah, absolutely. Can I talk to you about something really quick, though?"  
"What'dya need?"  
"Sam..."  
Charlotte's voice trailed off. She composed herself briefly before continuing.  
"Sam made it clear I'm not welcome with him, at least right now. Could I stay at your house for a couple days?"  
Melissa's face dropped. Oh no.  
"I would love to, I would. I just have no room, I'm sorry. I only have my one bed, and my girlfriend's sleeping there. I've been sleeping on my couch for, like, a week. I am so sorry."  
Of course. Honey. How could she forget? In her rush to figure out which of her coworkers would be fine with housing her, she had completely overlooked Melissa's girlfriend. She was in town for a few months.  
"It's fine! It's totally fine, I promise! I'll stay in the hotel for a few more days."  
Melissa's face was a mask of disbelief, but she nodded.  
"Okay. If you need anything else, feel free to call me for anything, okay?"  
Charlotte nodded, a tight smile holding back the hopelessness she was beginning to feel. She couldn't afford to stay in a hotel for a week. She could barely afford last night.  
"Char?"  
She looked up and saw Ted, of all people. She groaned in response, hoping to convey her lack of interest in talking.  
"I, uh, overheard your conversation. I have a spare room, if you want."  
She stared at Ted in disbelief almost not believing it. Ted Spankoffski, of all people, was inviting her to stay at his house?  
"Oh. Sure."  
Charlotte didn't think that was the answer he was expecting. Ted's face seemed to morph from relief to shock and back to his normal expression almost instantaneously. She actually found it kind of cute. What?  
"Oh! I mean, cool! Great. Do you need me to drive you or get your stuff from your hotel room or something...?"  
She laughed and assured him she could drive herself. He'd just need to give her his address so she could get there after work.  
"Alright. See you, uh, after work, then."  
Charlotte's head was spinning as he walked away from her. Had she really just had a normal conversation with Ted? And liked it? No. It was just what she had to do to not sleep in her car tonight. And if that was sharing a house with Ted Spankoffski, then damn it, she'd share a house with Ted.


	2. In which teds house is so much nicer than we expected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaaaaa nightmare time but its actually nightmares haha see what i did there

“This is his house?”   
Charlotte couldn’t help but be taken aback by the large house in front of her. She knew Ted had come from money. How else would he have not gotten fired yet? But this? The 2 floors of the home loomed in front of her, the lit windows seemingly beckoning her. It starkly contrasted her and Sam’s small 1 bedroom apartment.  
She was once again awoken from her thoughts.  
“You, uh, wanna come in? I can show you around a bit.”  
Ted’s face peeked into the window of Charlotte’s car, his knuckles still touching the glass from rapping on it moments earlier. She mutely nodded, opening the car door with a start.  
“Ow, fuck!”  
Ted keeled over. The door had hit him in the gut.  
“Oh my gosh, Teddy! Are you okay?”  
Too full of adrenaline to notice how easily the nickname came from her mouth, Charlotte jumped up to help him to his feet.  
“Jesus, Charlotte, I could have died!”  
And she would have believed it, too, if not for the fact his arm had moved from his stomach to lean against her car, his face split into a wide grin.  
“You asshole, I was really worried about you!”  
Ted just laughed and motioned to the front door.  
“You wanna complain about my fantastic acting skills or do you want to get out of the cold?”  
She nodded and followed him into the house.  
The first thing Charlotte noticed was that it looked bigger on the outside than it did the inside. The walls were crammed with bookshelves and cabinets, but not in a cluttered way. The organization was there. Books were arranged by color, size, even thickness. She didn’t take Ted for much of a book guy, but he clearly was. He noticed her staring at the rows of books and laughed once more. Charlotte decided she liked Ted’s laugh.  
“If you’re worried I’m literate now, don’t worry. This is technically my dad’s place. Been holed up here since the poor bastard died.”  
“Oh.”  
What else was she supposed to say? Sorry for your loss? He clearly wasn’t affected by the death of his father.  
Almost noticing her distress, his face shifted from amusement to worry. Charlotte almost deliberately didn’t notice how in tune he was with her emotions. She was too tired.  
“It’s not like that. He just... wasn’t the best person to me. So when he died, I was just sort of surprised when the lawyer told me that out of all my siblings, I was the one who got the house. He must’ve loved me, I guess. I just find it funny to think about. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”  
The next half hour sped by in a blur. Before she knew it, she was lying in Ted’s guest room, in Ted’s clothes (Charlotte hadn’t brought any pj’s and Ted practically insisted she wear some of his. “It’s fucking cold tonight.” Was all he had said as he shoved the pair of soft plaid pajamas towards her), and breathing in Ted’s blanket. It was all too much.  
She rolled onto her back and stared up at the unfamiliar ceiling, eventually slipping into a turbulent sleep.  
Charlotte’s dreams were almost never comprehensible. The last one she remembered having consisted of her riding a dolphin through the Mediterranean while the water slowly turned into LEGO bricks. But tonight was different. Charlotte could clearly make out the person in front of her. Sam. They were in a lab of some sort, and Sam was sitting limply in a chair, his arms tied behind his back. She noticed with a start that his head was open, and a blue goo seemed to be seeping from the very large wound. She rushed towards him.   
“Sam! Oh, God, what have I done, what have I done? Sam, honey, come back to me baby. I love you so much.”  
Moving away from him, she started to leave the room, feeling somewhat disappointed in herself. He didn’t love her. He never had. So why did she love him?  
“Charlotte...?”  
Charlotte spun around to find Sam, disoriented and still tied to the chair, very much alive. He was looking at her with confusion.  
“Sam!”  
“Where am I? Why am I tied to a chair?”  
His voice was slurred. Probably from blood loss, but she couldn’t tell if the blue shit was blood or something else.  
“It’s for your own safety, Sam. And ours... you’re not well, Sam. Let me get the professor in here. He’ll check you out, and then-“  
“No! They left me here to die! Only you can help me, Charlotte. Untie me, we can leave here together.”  
Sam’s voice began to shift. It went from the voice she had lived with since she was 18 to a voice almost unrecognizable. He started to sing.  
“I’m tied up Charlotte...”  
“Please, don’t do that.”  
Desperation rose in her voice. She wasn’t sure why, but the prospect of Sam singing seemed so frightening, like him doing so would cause them all to die.   
“Tied up... with you. You understand me. Now hand me those keys. The keys to our youth, God! We were young once. Innocent and fun once. And free. Let go of this grip on me! You tied up my heart! You tied me down, now break me open, with your love and mercy!”  
With the last few words, Sam opened his legs and began to thrust his hips on the beat. Or at least something Charlotte thought was the beat. There was no backing music, just hauntingly melodic words drifting out of Sam’s mouth. She felt strangely compelled to go over to him, to hold him, to untie him. But she resolved her nerve as Sam continued.  
And so it went. A few more verses, all tugging on her heartstrings all the same. One of them apologized for the alcoholism, another for “all the Charlottes”, which she could only assume meant other women, like Zoey. Throughout this, it became frustratingly apparent to Charlotte that her body was moving towards him, against the will of her mind. It was like she had no control anymore. She watched herself untie Sam and get picked up bridal-style, him laughing and thanking her the entire time. Just as they were about to exit he stopped, seemingly remembering something he needed to do. He moved the hand supporting her back and ripped open her cat sweater, swiftly moving his mouth to her stomach and ripping it open, grabbing her intestines and yanking.  
Charlotte woke up screaming. She screamed for Sam, she screamed for herself. What the hell kind of dream was that? It felt so real.  
She curled up under her blanket and started sobbing. She was shaking. Crying. Screaming. She couldn’t stop. It hurt. Were her insides there? Was she real? Was Sam there? Sam. Where was Sam? He was at work. He was working the late shift. He always works the late shift. She heard the door to her room open. A man let out a strangled scream. She could hear hurried footsteps towards her bedside. A hand rested on her back, rubbing circles. Her breathing slowed a bit. Was Sam home early? That must be it. Sam was home. He cared. He really cared. It was all a dream. He loved her. He had to. There was no singing, no blue goo. Just the sound of her shaky breath and the occasional shifting of Sam on the bed.  
After maybe ten minutes of this, she finally had calmed down enough to peek a look at her husband from underneath her blanket. To her surprise, it was Ted. His hair was a mess, he had clearly just woken up. His face was etched with worry and compassion, deeply shadowed by the nightlight glowing dimly in the corner.  
“Ted?”  
He hummed in response, still rubbing circles in between Charlotte’s shoulder blades. It was relaxing. She melted into his touch, not caring at all what it looked like. The bliss of this moment is overwhelming. She closed her eyes again and stretched out, her head resting in his lap. This time, her dreams consisted of nothing memorable, besides a few moments where she distinctly remembers Ted’s face. Charlotte didn’t want to know why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah fuck my hand slipped oh well hope you enjoyed


	3. In which charlotte has another breakdown because i want y’all to suffer i guess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ted,,, my boy,,,,, stop worrying about your kitchen,,

Charlotte woke up with the worst migraine of her life. She could hardly remember the events of last night, other than a faint recollection of Ted comforting her. Ted. She became acutely aware of an arm around her, surrounding her, trapping her.  
She took a few deep breaths.  
Comforting her. Charlotte could feel the person with their arm around her breathing deeply, calmly. She realized with a start it was Ted. His exhales gently brushed against her cheek. She matched his breathing and relaxed. What time was it? She wanted to check, but she didn’t want to move Ted. He seemed so peaceful. So Charlotte stayed bed, savoring the feeling of someone beside her. It had been a long time.  
She must have fallen asleep at some point, because Charlotte was awoken abruptly by the feeling of Ted shifting in bed, trying to maneuver his arm out from under her. She rolled over to let him move.  
“Char! Oh shit, did I wake you?”  
His voice was soft, studying her face intently.  
“No, I was already up.”  
“Oh. D’you want breakfast, then?”  
They both got up and walked to the kitchen, Ted leading the way. Once they had arrived, Charlotte got the first good look at him since she had gotten to his house. He was wearing pajama bottoms and no shirt. Oh God. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. She averted her eyes from his bare chest - she was married, for Christ sake - and instead looked at his face. Ted’s hair was sticking up everywhere and his face was red, a silly smile plastered on it, his eyes seemingly deep in thought. Why was his face red? Did she say something wrong? What was going on in his head?  
His mind was elsewhere. When Ted had woken up next to Charlotte, he had become deeply uncomfortable, disappointed at his lack of self-control. Why couldn’t he have just gone back to his room after she had stopped crying? Then he remembered the feeling of her head in his lap, the way she seemed to melt as he rubbed her back. A goofy grin started to spread across his face. Why was he so happy thinking about her? She was a coworker he was comforting after a panic attack. Nothing more. Never mind the fact she was wearing his clothes, sleeping in one of his beds.   
He pushed away the thoughts and noticed Charlotte, standing in the living room, drowning in the fabric of Ted’s favorite pajamas. Her hair was stuck up in funny angles, her eyes clouded with sleep as they seemed to study his face as well. Finally he spoke.  
“It’s half past three, I think it’s a little too late to have eggs and bacon.”  
Charlotte laughed.  
“What do you want to eat, then?”  
It was funny, really. When Charlotte got defiant, a spark would appear in her eyes. She would furrow her brow and slightly part her lips. Her hands would move to her hips, leaning slightly to the right. Ted thought it was cute. He shook his head, clearing any and all thoughts of her like that from his mind once again.   
“We can always cook. I have a shit ton of food about to expire. Haven’t gone to the grocery store in months. Just haven’t had the time, I guess.”  
He moved to the pantry to pull out some dry ingredients when Charlotte appeared and grabbed his arm.  
“No, I should cook. You’re letting me live in your house, the least I can do is cook lunch for you.”  
“Are you sure? It’s no trouble, really. I already have a meal planned out in my head-“  
“Ted.”  
She looked him right in the eyes. Since when did this become a serious conversation? He just wanted to eat some food.  
“I can cook. Please, let me cook.”  
He nodded in agreement and turned around, but not before trying in vain to reach the kitchen, desperately giving Charlotte instructions.  
“Make sure you use the right pans! I really don’t want to have spaghetti that was made in a wok.”  
“Mhm.”  
“And don’t let the water boil over. The floors are warped enough as it is.”  
She finally managed to push him out the door into the living room, closing the door behind him. Ted sat down on the couch, defeated, occasionally jumping as he heard pots and pans clatter, probably all falling on the floor. He reached for the TV remote and turned it on before hearing a quiet voice calling from the kitchen.  
“I, uh, I need some help.”  
He jumped up and opened the door to find Charlotte on the floor, desperately trying to sweep up the salt she had dropped on the floor. Ted suppressed a laugh and kneeled down to help her.  
“How’d this happen?”  
She looked up, her eyes welling up with tears.  
“I was going to make you these pork chops Sam loved, but I knocked over the salt trying to find some onions. I don’t know your kitchen. I’m so sorry. I should’ve just let you cook. I’m so, so sorry. Please don’t be mad at me. I- I just wanted to make a nice lunch.”  
The tears started to fall. Confused, Ted leaned in and put his arms around her, rubbing circles on her back like he had done the previous night. She buried her head in his neck, sobbing harder. After a few minutes his knees started to hurt, so he attempted to bring her to the couch, not wanting to leave her alone, but also not wanting to break his knees. He picked up the sobbing, shaking Charlotte and carried her out of the kitchen and into the living room. He gently set her down on the couch next to him, letting her fall into his arms again. She was mumbling something about being sorry between sobbing fits. Ted felt a pang of guilt. Had he given her the assumption he’d be mad if she messed up the kitchen? He stared off into space, absentmindedly stroking Charlotte’s hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anxious Charlotte is both the hardest to write but also what i keep coming back to? Sorry folks

**Author's Note:**

> theres more where this came from :)


End file.
